Hugh J. O'Donnell

He didn’t believe in monsters. He wasn’t afraid of the dark. But he heard the scratching at his closet door, and he knew that his belief had little to do with anything.
He tried to convince himself that the cat had just gotten trapped in the closet again. Firming his resolve, he got out of bed and padded over to the door. He opened it a crack, hoping for an indignant meow, but what he heard instead terrified him.
“We’ve been trying to reach you about your vehicle’s warranty…”
He slammed the door shut and dived back under his covers.

Thanks for reading! For more Everyday Drabbles, Follow me on Facebook and Twitter, and you can support the project on Ko-Fi!

Every night I hear the little monsters yelling and mating in the alley behind my apartment. I’ve called my super, animal control, anyone I could think of, but I just kept getting the run around.
“What has teeth but cannot eat?”
My super said they weren’t his responsibility, and he’d put up a fence that they’d quickly hopped over.
“What has one eye but cannot see?”
Animal control came to collect them, but they were outsmarted.
“What has legs but can’t run?”
In the end, I’m going to have to hire adventurers. I hate these feral sphinxes and their riddles.

Thanks for reading! For more Everyday Drabbles, Follow me on Facebook and Twitter, and you can support the project on Ko-Fi!

The machinist lived in a clockwork house, and spent most of his time keeping the cogwheels and gears turning. The townsfolk were happy to have the time of day, but considered the man to be extremely odd.
The door to his house was tied to the mechanism of the clock, and could only be opened once an hour. As such, he lived by a strenuously regimented schedule, and was always in a rush when he was in town.
The old women gossiped that he needed a wife, but he always rebuffed them.
“I don’t have time for romance,” he said.

Thanks for reading! For more Everyday Drabbles, Follow me on Facebook and Twitter, and you can support the project on Ko-Fi!

The herpetologist and his assistants searched the bridge to the Royal Society in a panic. His living sample of the rare chameleon he’d discovered had escaped, and if they didn’t find it soon, his presentation would be ruined.
“Remember, it is probably blending into the stone. Look carefully!”
“What if it changed into something else, knowing stone would be obvious?” A graduate student asked.
“Don’t be daft. It isn’t capable of that level of sophistication.” He spat.
Disguised as an gold ornamental carving, the chameleon watched them tramp up and down the bridge, and waited for its chance to escape.

Thanks for reading! For more Everyday Drabbles, Follow me on Facebook and Twitter, and you can support the project on Ko-Fi!

“You’re a real, living human?” the Rat King asked, adjusting his crown nervously. “I have so many questions.”
The time traveller smiled and bowed. This wasn’t what she expected the far future to be like. New York City was a ruin, populated by six-foot tall talking rats. Rats that were heavily armed and standing between her and the time machine. She played along.
“Like what?”
The Rat King asked his questions, and with a dawning horror, she saw all of Humanity’s faults laid bare by his skewed perspective. She vowed to get back to the present and start fixing them.

Thanks for reading! For more Everyday Drabbles, Follow me on Facebook and Twitter, and you can support the project on Ko-Fi!

The priest found the desk in a hidden corner of the rectory basement under a tarp. It looked less like a writing surface than a renaissance tomb, crowded with carved figures of saints and angels.
There was no record of the parish acquiring it, and nobody knew where it came from. Taking it as Providence, he claimed it for himself. He was sure it would provide divine inspiration for his sermons, even if it took up most of the space in his room.
He had it put back a week later, after the carvings wouldn’t stop giving him editorial advice.

Thanks for reading! For more Everyday Drabbles, Follow me on Facebook and Twitter, and you can support the project on Ko-Fi!

The old woman sat on the floor, knees pulled to her chest. The brown folds of her dress covered her features like sedimentary layers. She held the blue hexagonal tile loosely in her hand, tapping it against the side of her jaw, deep in thought.
The pattern was spread out before her, a horizon of browns and grays. She hovered the blue tile over a few empty spots, looking for the best placement. She smiled, and slotted the piece where it belonged. The board whirred to life, and a cascade of tiles flipped to green.
“Nice move,” her opponent huffed.

Thanks for reading! For more Everyday Drabbles, Follow me on Facebook and Twitter, and you can support the project on Ko-Fi!

When she died after a sudden illness, the public was shocked, but attributed it to accident. People shook their heads and said that everyone knew you were supposed to use distilled water in a Neti Pot. Still, it was a shame, they said.
The police were ready to rule it an accidental death, but one detective wasn’t so sure. He searched the house again, and found the bottle she had supposedly used. It came back free of microbes, so he dusted it for prints, and the murderer hand’t thought to rinse them from the bottle when he made the switch.

Thanks for reading! For more Everyday Drabbles, Follow me on Facebook and Twitter, and you can support the project on Ko-Fi!

In his sanctum, the alchemist carefully poured the glowing, boiling contents of the cauldron into a copper vessel.
As the liquid cooled, it would transform into a potion of wondrous healing. As he waited the alchemist reflected on his mighty accomplishment. He had once again walked that fine line between reason and faith, magic and science. He’d mastered the elements, and bent them to his will. He was satisfied.
Three months later, the adventurer thumbed the stopper and drank the potion in a single gulp, trying not to gag. She wondered bitterly why those guys couldn’t make them taste better.

Thanks for reading! For more Everyday Drabbles, Follow me on Facebook and Twitter, and you can support the project on Ko-Fi!

Her ambition was to be a squire. She wanted to serve a gallant knight in service to a great house or cause, and someday take up arms herself.
She made herself up as a boy, forged a letter of introduction, and went to the castle. Being of no great account, they assigned her to an older knight of little standing.
There was little gallantry or excitement, but the knight was kind and trained her well.
The squire worried constantly that she would be discovered. Until one day the knight took her aside and assured her that they’d never discovered her.

Thanks for reading! For more Everyday Drabbles, Follow me on Facebook and Twitter, and you can support the project on Ko-Fi!